


Inversion

by Lenore



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, M/M, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/pseuds/Lenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of Clark Luthor and Alexander Kent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inversion

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [](http://katkim.livejournal.com/profile)[**katkim**](http://katkim.livejournal.com/) for the beta!

_If he were raised by your parents and you were raised by Lionel, you wouldn't grow up to be different people? Trust me, you'd be rich and miserable, and he'd be wearing flannel._  
—Lucas, _Prodigal_

* * *

It should have been better now, that's what Alex kept thinking. The farm had been saved. The collection agents weren't calling anymore. By the end of the year, the second mortgage would be all paid off, and there might even be a little money in the bank. Maybe they could take that vacation to California they'd always talked about.

But it wasn't better. Alex's mom was still bustling around the kitchen, trying to blot out the uncomfortable silence with her busy-bee routine. A sense of strain lingered over the breakfast table, Alex choking down a few spoonfuls of Corn Pops, while his father hid behind the paper, looking at the headlines and the eggs on his plate and out the window, anywhere but at Alex.

It had been just the same way every morning since Alex's desperate visit to Luthor Manor, begging for help, for mercy. He still couldn't decide who his father was really angry with, Alex for sacrificing his pride, or himself for profiting from it.

Or maybe he simply suspected the truth about Alex's arrangement with Clark.

His explanation hadn't been very convincing. He'd been raised to be honest. Taught that a lie of omission counted the same as a lie you actually told. So when he'd said that Clark had agreed to take over their loan payments if Alex occasionally did some work for him after school, he had blushed just as much as if it had been a complete falsehood.

Alex got up quietly, rinsed his bowl in the sink, and took a deep breath before turning around to face his parents.

"I'm going to be late today," he said, stumbling over the words. "I have to—" He could feel himself turning red. "I have something I need to take care of."

His father put down the paper and stared at him, jaw clenched. His mother had that expression that always made Alex's chest hurt, a combination of compassion and helplessness.

"Honey, you don't have to—"

"It's fine, Mom," he said quickly. "It's no big deal."

Another lie. Because, really, it was just about the biggest deal ever. His heart pounded whenever he thought about it, Clark's hands, inquisitive, acquisitive, all over him, on top of his clothes, under them. And Clark hadn't even— Not yet. Although he _would_. As long as Clark was making the loan payments, Alex was his to do with as he pleased. That was the deal. But the Luthor heir liked to play with people, everybody knew that, and Alex probably wouldn't even know it was coming until he was bent over a convenient chair.

The image made him shiver. He liked to think it was fear.

His mother frowned. "But what does he have you doing?"

"Uh—you know. Just some stuff around the office."

A quick shot of memory, Clark backing him up against the desk, stroking his erection through his pants. Alex's cheeks burned hotter.

"Why would he do that, Alex? Why would he give so much money for—" His mother trailed off, fear and confusion in her eyes.

And Alex hated that, hated being the cause of it. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt or disappoint her.

"I think it's just—he likes to do things to bug his father. And, well—" His voice got quiet. "I am on Mr. Luthor's bad side."

His mother's face colored. His father's grew more stony. Alex lowered his eyes. This was something they were careful not to talk about. The real reason the bank, newly acquired by LuthorCorp, had called in the loan. All Alex's fault.

It had been a routine delivery to the mansion. His mother had gone ahead with the baked goods while he stacked up the boxes of produce and lugged them to the kitchen. Inside, he found his mother backed into a corner of the counter, Lionel Luthor with his hand on her arm, and an expression on his face that—Alex hadn't thought. He'd dropped the boxes, rushed to his mother's side, pushed Lionel away from her.

When they turned to go, Clark was standing in the doorway, smiling at his father, his eyes filled with sarcastic enjoyment. Lionel's face darkened dangerously, and Alex realized then what a mistake he'd made. That they would pay for it. Somehow. Luthors always pushed back. Everybody knew that.

The next day, his father got a call from the bank president. Not long after that, Alex got the offer from Clark.

"I'll be home for supper," he told his mother, forcing himself to smile.

His mother returned it, bravely. "Okay, honey." She kissed his cheek and held him close. "I love you."

He swallowed hard. "Love you, too."

He reluctantly pulled away and gathered up his backpack. Shuffled his weight from foot to foot, hoping his father might say something. But he just sat there, unmovable, staring stubbornly into the distance.

"Bye, Dad," Alex finally said, a tight feeling in his throat.

He left quickly, before the silence could hurt any more than it already did.

* * *

At school, he glanced around nervously as he always did these days, terrified that word might have gotten out somehow. He could just imagine all the things they would call him. It made his stomach hurt, the possibility of becoming even more of a pariah than he already was. But as he walked down the hall, the football players just smirked and shouted "hey, baldy." The clique of pretty girls looked right through him, the way they always did. And Alex breathed a sigh of relief.

He rounded a corner on his way to first period, and someone ran headlong into him, a flash of pink, long dark hair lashing his face.

"Sorry, Lana," he said, shyly.

She took a step back. "Oh, hey. Alex. Sorry about that." She smiled at him.

"No problem. Well, um, see you." He hurried away.

Lana was always nice, but in an exaggerated way that him feel like a charity case. She'd gotten this idea that he liked her, and he supposed she was trying to be kind. Alex did look at her a lot, but it wasn't attraction. Not exactly. It was just that she was everything he wasn't—shimmery and beautiful, popular and carefree. And he would stare at her and wonder. What would it feel like for people to see you and always smile?

At the end of the hall, Pete waited to walk him to class.

"Hey, man."

Alex smiled. "Hey, Pete." He fell into step beside him.

"So you've been holding out on me. Why didn't you tell me you had a run-in with that Luthor prick?"

Alex went pale. It hadn't even occurred to him to worry about defending himself against his friends.

"Pete, I can explain—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Dude came onto your mom. So you took care of it. I heard all about it. Way to go, man. Somebody needs to show those arrogant jerks they can't push people around just because they have money."

Alex's stomach unclenched. He took a deep breath.

"It wasn't that big a deal."

Pete rolled his eyes. "You got to stop being so modest all the time. Ladies like a little self-confidence. You know, some bravado."

"Bravado?" Alex looked at him skeptically.

Pete shook his head. "You're hopeless, man. Hopeless."

They went to class, and Alex tried to pay attention. But the day seemed to tick by painfully slowly. He was so antsy and preoccupied that the girl who sat next to him in Chemistry kept complaining in a loud voice about people with hyperactivity disorder. But he just couldn't help it.

Finally, the clock hit three, and the final bell rang. Alex was the first one out the door.

It still surprised him the way he hurried to the castle. At first, it had simply been anxiousness to get it over with. But now—it wasn't eagerness exactly, because Clark Luthor certainly did intimidate him. Just the idea of standing there all tongue-tied in his old T-shirt and jeans, a hopeless hick totally out of his element in Clark's sleek black-and-chrome office filled him with dread. He realized that most people would have minded the other things. The looking. The touching. But for Alex—it was just such a change to have someone see _him_ , and not a freak, that Clark's attentions were actually rather flattering. In a twisted, bought-and-paid-for kind of way.

At the mansion, the butler answered the door. "Mr. Kent." He eyed Alex's flannel disapprovingly. "Mr. Luthor's expecting you. He asked me to show you into the study."

His tone was bland, the words ordinary, but Alex could feel the weight of everything that went unsaid, everything he knew the man must think. His stomach tied itself into a knot of humiliation. Of course, everyone in the house knew why he was there. They must talk about it amongst themselves and laugh and even try to picture it, Alex surrendering his body to their boss, like a passive little plaything.

He kept his head down and followed the butler. He tried not to cringe at the sound of his heavy work boots clomping on the finely polished marble floor.

The butler left him at the doorway to Clark's office with a brief nod. Clark was on the phone, his expression serious, his voice cool, and Alex hesitated. But when Clark glanced up, he motioned for him to come in. Alex had no thought but to obey.

"You know, I really don't think you want to push me out of this deal. A change at this point in the project could have all kinds of unfortunate effects at the job site. Schedule delays. Freak accidents. Who knows what might happen?"

Clark leaned back in his chair, smiling in a jarringly predatory fashion. Alex tried not to gawk. But the finely chiseled planes of Clark's face, restrained power of his body, elegant lines of his impeccable black suit, and Alex just couldn't seem to look anywhere else.

"Great!" Clark said, with obvious satisfaction. "I thought you'd see it my way."

He slammed the phone down. "Sometimes, my father forgets what I'm capable of. Thinks he can presume on our family ties."

Alex could only stare.

Clark smiled. Got up from his chair with dangerous, animal grace and walked over to him. "Does that shock you?" he asked. "That I would talk to my father that way? You'd never do that, would you, Alex? I bet you respect your father. Get along with him."

"Um, well—Mr. Luthor, I—"

The scene at the breakfast table flashed through his head, and he knew that as long as he had any connection to the Luthors he would not be his father's favorite person, no matter what his motivations were. But, of course, he could hardly say that.

"It's okay, Alex. You don't have to answer. And it's Clark, remember?"

"Uh—yeah. Right. Clark."

It was a little weird to use his first name. And _really_ weird to have Clark circling around, looking him up and down.

"Are you afraid of me?" Clark asked.

Alex had no idea what to say. All the fast-flying rumors around town hadn't come close to the truth of what Clark Luthor could do. Lift things he shouldn't even be able to budge. Move faster than ought to be possible. Alex had seen it all and more. And yet, he really didn't _think_ Clark would hurt him, although he had no idea why.

Green eyes sparkled with amusement. "Too honest to say no. Too proud to say yes." He leaned in and whispered against Alex's ear. "I like that."

Alex trembled at the feel of Clark's breath against his skin.

"You're not afraid of my father. I know that," Clark said.

"I—" Safer not to say anything, and yet, the anger was still too fresh. "She's my _mother_. And he had no right."

"Ah, but that's a Luthor for you. We want something, we take it. You don't approve, obviously."

Alex blushed. "I don't—I didn't mean—" He shuffled his feet nervously, lowered his eyes.

Clark moved closer. "That's okay. I like it. Your sense of what's right. Your spark. I understand your protectiveness. I loved my mother, too. Very much."

Something almost wistful in Clark's voice, and it made Alex lift his gaze.

"I'm adopted. You know that, right?" Clark asked.

Alex nodded.

"My mother was the one who found me. Took me in. She was the only one who ever understood. But maybe—" He tilted his head, as if considering. "You know what it's like to be different, don't you, Alex? To always be on the outside?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes."

Clark nodded. "I thought so."

"What do you want from me?" he whispered.

A soft smile. "Everything I can get."

Alex couldn't answer. What would he say? And yet, he couldn't seem to look away, either.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are," Clark said. "But I'm going to teach you."

Alex felt a flare of heat in the pit of his stomach. He unconsciously lifted his mouth to be kissed and blushed when he realized it.

Clark stroked his cheek with his thumb. "Never be ashamed of what you want. That's something else you'll learn from me."

And then Clark's lips were on his, and nothing Alex had ever imagined about kissing was like this. The bold onslaught of Clark's mouth, the play of tongue, nip of teeth. Clark seemed to be everywhere at once, his hands, his body, his voice in Alex's ear, until Alex was drowning in sensation. Thinking that this was what it really meant to be owned.

Clark broke the kiss, breathing harshly.

"You do know that a man can get fucked, don't you, Alex?"

He nodded mutely.

Clark traced the vein at his temple with a finger. "You understand that's what I'm going to do to you?"

He started to nod again, but Clark said, "No. Tell me."

Alex looked at him helplessly.

He stuttered, "I—I know."

Clark kissed his neck, and Alex couldn't help himself. He pressed closer.

"Tell me, Alex," Clark coaxed.

Alex closed his eyes. "I—I know you're going to fuck me."

A kiss to his ear. "Good boy." Satisfaction in Clark's voice. "Come on."

He held out his hand. Alex blinked, not comprehending.

"Upstairs," Clark said. "Not that I don't like the idea of taking you on my desk. But not today."

Alex felt light-headed, the blood pounding in his ears. Everything was too real, too fast, and it practically paralyzed him. God. Clark was going to do it. Going to _take_ him. His hands shook, and it was hard to breathe.

Clark led him to a room on the second floor. Closed the door and locked it behind them.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered.

Alex stood in the middle of Clark's lavish bedroom, his heart pounding, trembling violently all over. He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready. He wrapped his arms around himself, unconsciously, a gesture of protection.

"Don't be afraid. I just want to see you, Alex. Show me your body."

Clark's voice low and mesmerizing, and Alex's hands seemed wired to the sound. They moved automatically to the waistband of his pants, pulled his shirt free, started to undo buttons. The only time he was ever naked in front of other people was in the locker room at school, and this was nothing like that. Alex slipped out of his shirt, let it flutter to the floor. Clark stared greedily at his bare chest.

"Beautiful," he said. "Show me more."

Alex felt like he was underwater. Everything seemed to happen so slowly, so deliberately, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his fly, pushing his jeans over his hips, down his legs, stepping out of them, his arousal clearly outlined by the thin white cotton of his briefs.

"Show me everything," Clark urged, softly.

It wasn't real, pushing down his underwear, kicking it away with his foot, standing there completely naked. But then Clark's hungry gaze on his skin, and suddenly it was. Too real.

He blushed and dropped his hands to cover himself.

Clark frowned. "Don't."

Alex obeyed, but it was too much. He was too exposed, and Clark was too near. There was no way to hide the effect it had on him, his erection jutting out in front of him, his skin flushed, so hot he had the sudden, irrational fear of spontaneous combustion.

Clark inspected him leisurely. Ran his hand down Alex's arm. Rubbed a nipple. Laughed at the sharp intake of Alex's breath.

"So smooth," he said, stroking Alex's side. "So gorgeous."

He pulled Alex into his arms for another kiss. The sensation of naked skin against wool, silk, leather, hot and shocking, and Alex moaned helplessly against Clark's mouth as the kiss went on and on. When Clark finally broke it, Alex was panting. And harder than he'd ever been in his life.

"You understand I'm not like other people?" Clark asked, as he explored Alex's neck with little swipes of his tongue.

Alex clung to him, too dazed to speak. He could only nod.

"Yes, I thought you would."

There was a rush of wind, and then Clark was naked too, pressed against him.

"How—" Alex started to say.

But Clark cut him off with another kiss. He began to move, skin to skin, and Alex really didn't care how he'd done it. All that mattered was that it never stop.

When Clark did pull away, Alex let out a loud, startling sound of disappointment.

Clark's smile was smugly pleased. "Don't worry. You'll like this."

He fell to his knees. Alex sucked in his breath, and Clark laughed.

"What'd I tell you?"

He slid a hand up Alex's smooth thigh, cupped his hairless balls, making Alex moan.

"Bare everywhere," Clark said, sounding only interested, not mocking. "You'll have to tell me about that sometime."

Clark blew on his erection, and Alex knew what was coming. But he still could never have been prepared for the first white-hot swipe of Clark's tongue along his cock.

"Fuck!" he cried out.

"Mmm. Soon," Clark said, in a thick, sexual purr.

Clark sucked Alex's cock into his mouth, and every old wives tale about too much sex making you go blind made sudden sense. Because the pleasure was the hottest, brightest thing imaginable, and Alex wasn't sure he would be able to see when it was over.

Clark did things with his mouth and tongue and teeth, and Alex whimpered. And clenched his hands. And didn't quite know where to put them.

Clark paused just long enough to say, "It's okay. You can touch me."

Alex curled his hands around Clark's shoulders, not quite brave enough to run his fingers through Clark's hair, even though he wanted to. He started when he felt a slick finger dip into his cleft. But then Clark took his cock deep into his throat. Sweet ache of pleasure, and he didn't pull away as the finger circled, explored, pressed inside.

Clark teased him, sucking and then pulling back to kiss his belly, thighs, hips.

"We're meant for this, Alex. Can't you feel it? In every universe that exists, we're there, doing this." A talented tongue teased his slit. "Maybe in those other places, you're on your knees. And I'm about to lose my cherry." Clark touched a place inside him that nearly made Alex's knees buckle. "But it's still the same. Still so damned good."

Two fingers inside him now, and Alex pushed back, taking them deeper. All the hesitations fell away. It didn't matter how his father looked at him or what the kids at school might say. What was real was the two of them, Clark and Alex, ad infinitum, filling up the cosmos, filling up each other.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut and shook like he was going to fly apart. He didn't think he could stop.

"Do it," Clark said, around his cock.

And Alex came, on command, great wracking shudders that drained the strength out of him. He would have fallen if Clark hadn't caught him. The room spun, and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back on the bed with Clark kneeling over him. Like they had just magically floated there. Like Clark wasn't bothered by gravity the way other people were.

Like he wasn't exactly human.

"No. I'm not." As if reading his mind. "Does it make a difference? Not that I'm not going to fuck you anyway." A wolfish grin.

Alex stared up at him in amazement. Touched his face. Pulled him down for a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

"Sweet Alex," Clark murmured.

He eased Alex onto his side. Clark's hard cock nestled in his cleft, and Alex couldn't help tensing.

"Just relax."

Slow, wet kiss, and he was moaning. Clark's cock at his opening, the slow build of pressure, shock of pain, and Clark was inside him. All the air rushed out of Alex's body. His eyes watered. Clark started to move slowly, and for one panicky moment, Alex wanted to yell, wanted it to stop.

But the tension in Clark's arms, the strength of his grip, and Alex wasn't sure he _would_ stop, for anything. He took a shaky breath, tried to hold on. Clark worked his way deeper and deeper into his trembling body. And when Alex thought he couldn't take anymore, a knifepoint of sensation, not pain, but that place that Clark had touched before, sharp, electric thrill. He howled and bucked up wildly, and Clark had to hold his hips to keep him from lurching back too hard.

Kisses strung across his shoulder, against the back of his neck. "You like that, huh?"

Clark started to move faster, working that place, and pleasure exploded like fireworks, hot and shimmering, along every nerve in Alex's body.

"Touch yourself." Breathy voice against his ear.

He hesitated. Clark's cock in his ass, and yet, stroking himself made him feel oddly shy.

"Go on. I want to see you."

A little whimper, and he licked his palm. Wrapped his hand around his cock. Moaned loudly.

"Tell me," Clark whispered.

"Clark," he gasped.

"Say it, Alex."

"God. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Please."

A triumphant growl, and Clark rode him harder. Alex met every stroke, pushing back against Clark's cock, forward into his own hand, a dizzying seesaw. And he couldn't last. Couldn't.

"God! Clark!"

He came so violently it was almost painful, spiraling into darkness. He was too lost to feel Clark's orgasm, but when he came to his senses, Clark was slumped against him, breathing heavily.

Soft kisses to his scalp. "Beautiful." Clark eased out of him, curved along his back, one arm lightly flung across his waist.

But the sudden emptiness felt like a loss.

It took Alex a moment to realize that the hot-wet on his face was tears, so surprising. He tried to hide in the pillow. He thought Clark would be mad, but a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

"It hurts the first time. I know."

He shook his head. "It's not that. It's just—"

How to even begin to explain that this extorted sex was the most connected he'd ever felt, the closest he'd ever been to anybody? It was just too pathetic.

"If you're worried about what people will say, don't be. I'll make anyone who bothers you more sorry than they ever thought possible. They'll understand that. Trust me."

Alex wasn't quite so convinced, but he nodded anyway.

Clark held him tighter, almost possessively, and whispered against his ear, "This whole world is going to be mine one day, Alex. And you'll be right there beside me. We have a destiny together. You'll see."

Alex had no idea what he was talking about. He thought maybe it was some way of trying to make him feel less cheap. But then, he couldn't imagine why Clark would bother. The deal had been clear from the beginning. And Alex knew what that made him.

Clark stroked a hand down his thigh. "You were going to tell me about this."

"Oh." Alex took a deep breath. "Um, it happened when I was really little. My dad went to see Mr. Hendricks about some hay, and I wandered off into the field. And there was—" He shook his head. "That was the day the meteors hit. And it—well, you see what it did."

Alex didn't want to look at Clark. Didn't want to see the appalled expression that people always got when they heard his story. But there was just something about Clark, and he couldn't help himself. He was startled to find Clark's face oddly tender, amazed, even reverent.

"I knew you were the one," Clark murmured.

Alex stared at him. There were so many things he wanted to ask.

"Later," Clark said. "Sleep now."

Alex went still, more than a little surprised. Despite Clark's destiny talk, he'd really expected just to be dismissed when it was over. It gave him a warm feeling, being allowed to stay in Clark's arms, to linger in his bed.

But then he remembered.

"My parents—"

"Know where you are. And won't bother us."

His father's bleak, disapproving expression flashed momentarily through his head. But there was nothing to be done about that now. He let out his breath and relaxed against Clark. He knew that when they woke up Clark would fuck him again, and he would beg for it just as he had this time. Just as he would every time Clark touched him.

He thought maybe he should be ashamed of that. But he just couldn't be. Because the thing about being owned was that it felt a lot like finally belonging somewhere.

Maybe even a little like being loved.


End file.
